Veneficus, Draconis, et Fetialis
by BlueMew
Summary: No one expects the Iscariot Inquision, least of all them. . . . . Harry PotterxHellsing crossover cowritten with KharBevNor
1. Dreißig Silbermünzen

Ack! Another crossover is coming to the Hellsing Archives! But this time. . . .it's fully feasible.

Yes, you heard me correctly. There is no dimension travel, no ooc-ness, and no leaving England or continental Europe.

So starts yet another Hellsing/Harry Potter crossover.

This is a collaborative work by KharBevNor and myself, and most of the credit should be given to Khar for sparking the creativity during an rpg, and thanks again to him for just being an all around grand person.

Khar and I don't own Hellsing or HP. If we did, well, *chuckles* 

Anyway, read, enjoy, and review. We'll both love you if you do. ^_^

~*~*~*~*~*~

            August was unseasonably warm in Lucerne this year, and the middle aged grey haired clergyman dabbed beads of perspiration from his forehead with a white handkerchief pulled from his trouser pocket, which was quickly returned from whence it came. All around the streets large pink flowers that were in bloom began to sag and wither away in the midday sun and the beloved edelweiss gave up their sweet scent in the humidity so that the air was now almost sickening as it was breathed in.

            This was enough to make any sane man or woman retreat to the confines of their air conditioned homes or to splash lazily in the lakes and personal swimming pools. Only those that had urgent business meandered through the city's streets as they completed whatever mundane tasks they were forced to endure. No one wanted to be in the sweltering heat, not even the foreign priest.

            But Father Enrico Maxwell was on a mission. It was not technically from God, per se, but soon, because of a new benefactor, Iscariot would cleanse the world of a problem even more terrible than the vampire.

            Black magicians were being trained in England. These were not the mundane FREAK implanted humans that wished to gain powers of the supernatural or halfling vampires that had minor control over the other realm.

            No, these were true magicians- the witches and wizards confronted in the darkest days of the Middle Ages. How could the Vatican and Section Thirteen have allowed such filth to reign supreme in its own godless sphere when they had always employed the technology to defeat demonic creatures?

            And if all else failed, a blitzkrieg-like sweep upon their clans would be enough to finish the task of sending their souls to hell.  In this way, no other generations could be polluted with the nonsense of the black and neutral magics.

            Just two weeks prior, Father Maxwell was sitting in his office sipping an espresso and listening to Mozart, blissfully unaware of the dangers lurking near his continent.

He had nearly fainted upon the discovery of the papers that Father Ronaldo placed on hid desk, describing the completely magical town of Hogsmeade, the school known as Hogwarts, and worst of all, that Hellsing and England actually allowed a Ministry of Magic to exist and serve with the Knights of the Round Table!

            It was just another incidence of the Protestant bitch's idiocy and lenience toward the godless beings in her realm.

            The benefactor insisted that he would pay the Catholics thirty million pounds in pure gold bullion if they could purge this monstrosity of an academy from the world in a Spanish Inquisition style massacre. Nothing was to remain, save for the true believers of Christ Jesus, the Lord in Heaven.

            How could Maxwell refuse such a task? Father Anderson was already talented in the Holy magics, and it had been simple enough task for the paladin to train both Heinkel and Yumiko to utilize such weapons. The mission would be easy for those three to complete. 

            Stepping in to the air conditioned bank, Father Maxwell moved to the line still holding the account number that the benefactor had given him to use for the transaction. Thirty million pounds would convert to many more Euros, so he would have to be absolutely certain to take some of the money for his own benefit. After all, he deserved such an award for being the leader of the non-human hunting organization.

            He sighed, impatiently waiting for the next available teller. God would favor him for purging the world of the mockery of His Holy presence. 

            It was now up to Anderson and his squadron of elite soldiers. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

            The populace of Hogsmeade did not know what was happening as the first bullets and blessed blades rained down upon their peaceful city, striking down dozens of unsuspecting witches and wizards as they walked along the streets heading to and from the shops that lined the main causeway.

            Muggle weapons should never have been allowed to pass through the magical curtain used to repel those who were not eligible to enter the city. Panic soon descended like a dark cloud upon the denizens as they rushed to grasp their wands, crying out spells that were sent off in all directions in the hopes that the invisible attacker would be hit.

            This terrible onslaught must be the work of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the Death Eaters, or so the screaming witches and wizards yelled to each other as they realized what was happening. The panic now grew to near-hysteric levels as mothers shuffled their children inside shops, and men called to each other in a hope to rally against this evil force. 

            Spells were striking too near the hiding places of the three Iscariot members. Soon, the heathens would discover the instigators of the cleansing, and the three Holy warriors would be killed. With a nod, Anderson gave the silent command to Yumie and Heinkel. 

            In an instant, pages of scripture flew across the town, affixing themselves to every door and window, blocking most every incantation and spell that could prove useful for the townspeople in this situation.

            Only the most pure of the white magics could be called upon, and while most spells used by the populace were not harmful, they were just general spells with no meaning attached to a higher power. Only the God of the Catholics and the magics called upon in his name would prove useful.

            Some noticed the shielding of magic came from the pages pinned all around the city, and those frantically ripped at the sheets, tearing them from the walls in the hope some useful magic would return. But as soon as one leaf of paper was removed, another would take its place. 

            The witches and wizards were too stunned by their brooms not flying, their wands not being able to shoot any disarming or shielding spells, and that they could not even apparate, to notice the three figures descending the hill at an incredible speed. 

            Anderson's grin was as feral as Yumie's as they charged from the Shrieking Shack, and both blade wielding clerics easily sliced through any person standing near enough for a blessed blade to reach its target. Almost instantly, thirty men that were trying to remove the blessed scriptures from the buildings were cut in half. 

            The witches and wizards realized that without their magic, they had no chance in stopping the foreigners. Instead, they ran to the buildings, hiding from the onslaught.

            Heinkel remained calm as she jogged down the hill, shooting her targets from a distance, making certain to mock those that screamed curses as she easily killed the unarmed magical creatures. She had researched magical creatures in her studies of the arcane scriptures written alongside the Gnostic Gospels and throughout the Middle Ages, and in her mind she continued to make note of each and every goblin, elf, miniature troll, and whatever else her bullets passed through. This was quite fun.

            But they were all running inside, where the wizards would have the advantage.

            "Yumie! It's time to flush out the rats!"

            Another witch screamed as she watched what must be her lover fall dead on the pavement due to Heinkel's blessed bullets, bullets that should have been used for killing vampires or other filth, but instead were striking a mortal, albeit a strange mortal, dead. The witch pulled her wand, pointing it at the short haired blond woman in priest's vestments, shouting every possible spell she could think of, but to no avail. These- she didn't know if they were wizards or muggles- had found a way to block magic.

            Falling to her knees, the witch knew she was about to die, and the knowledge of such an event was too much for her to handle.

            The witch shrieked as she felt the warm metal of the Volcano rest upon her temple as she leaned over her lover's body, sobbing hysterically as she awaited her death.

            The click of the hammer pulling back elicited another whimper from the woman's throat, and the witch did the only thing she could think to do at a moment such as this.

            "Please, God, spare me. . . ."

            Heinkel stopped, stepping away from the witch. "What did you say?"

            The witch was still shaking as she looked up at the Vatican agent, caught in her personal hell while the city around her now smelled of burning wood and flesh. The one named Yumie must have started many large fires somehow. "I. . . .I asked God to. . . . to spare me."

            Heinkel smirked. "Which God do you speak of?" The Volcano was still pointed at the woman's head, and her finger was still on the trigger.

            "J-Jesus?"

            It was a question. The woman was obviously intelligent enough to notice the crucifix hanging on a chain resting between Heinkel's breasts. 

            The cleric chuckled. "If you are not lying, he will forgive the sins you have committed by living the heresy of witchcraft."

            Blood and tissue splattered across the windows of the Three Broomsticks as the bullet passed cleanly through the woman's skull, killing her instantly. Another heretical soul was now roasting in the depths of hell, leaving Heinkel trembling with pleasure. 

            The fires were blazing out of control now, passing quickly from rooftop to rooftop, engulfing everything in its path. The destruction had been ordered to be as complete as the three Iscariot agents could manage, and it seemed as if their task would be complete very soon.

            Dead bodies lined the streets, and the blood spilled on the ground was now beginning to reek in the midday August sun. Someone would find the town's ruins soon enough, but why shouldn't the agents have a little more fun while they were here?

            "Wolfe!" Anderson yelled as he broke another bale of straw that he found in the Shrieking Shack, tossing the flakes around an obvious dwelling place, though garish in its heathenistic way. "Get the petrol so we can really get this bonfire going!"

            Without acknowledgment, Heinkel walked back to the place just behind the Shrieking Shack where the three had stored their equipment, grabbing four cans of petrol in her hands as she walked toward the buildings that were not already burning, stepping inside to spread the catalyst on the floors and walls before grabbing a bottle of some sort of liquor and shoving a towel in the neck before lighting it on fire, tossing it toward the back of the building as she exited the bar.

            From inside, the witches and wizards just watched her, terrified to move for fear of death by one of her blessed bullets. They were without magic, even indoors- Heinkel was surprised that the barrier could be as strong as it now was.

            The firebomb exploded on contact, breaking the windows as the flames roared larger than the fires created by the other two members of the team.

            Inside, the patrons and those hiding from the wrath of the Iscariot members did not even have a chance for escape, and their screams of terror and pain roared through the air. If Heinkel cared about those not strong in the Catholic Traditions, she may have felt remorse for killing so many people, but those agents of Lucifer himself deserved their fate. 

            She looked around the city as she walked back toward the Shrieking Shack, hoping to understand what was really happening. Hundreds, if not thousands, of heathens lay dead in the streets, and those that were now emerging to the streets because of the fires were easy targets for Yumie and her blade. Women, children, and the elderly had all perished, and rightly so; they practiced magic. God did not like the supernatural, and that is how it would always be.

            Anderson was now carrying more petrol to the stone structures that were just smoldering as the fires reached them, dousing their innards with the terrible liquid before tossing another firebomb inside. 

            Every building now burned, and no more witches and wizards were running to the streets in the hopes that their lives would be spared. The town would be a pile of rubble tomorrow, smelling of roast flesh and newly started decay, and soon, someone would notice that something terrible had just occurred in the town near the large castle. Once the fires were noticed, officials would arrive and question all those that may survive as to what happened and who caused such a disaster. 

            It was time for Iscariot to leave.

            With a smile, Heinkel whispered a Profession of Faith in her native tongue, joining Father Anderson and Sister Yumiko as they headed up the sloping hills, where they would soon come to a church in the next village that would offer them refuge until their journey back to Vatican City.

            This was a grand day for Iscariot.


	2. A Plea For Help

**HELLSING/HP CROSSOVER**

**CHAPTER 1: A PLEA FOR HELP**

            Integra's office was cold at this time of evening. The ancient manor was full of drafts and the central heating was notoriously faulty. She had ordered the fire stoked, and the heat made her desk comfortable, despite the cold windows behind.

            There was endless paperwork, or so it seemed. Reports, requisition forms, letters of condolence…she was almost falling asleep, what with this balmy heat from the fire, and all this damned paperwork…

            Suddenly, someone coughed. She sat bolt upright, her hand at her holstered gun in an instant. She knew the voice of everyone in the Mansion it could be, and it was none of them.

            There was another cough. The fireplace…suddenly, with a bound she leapt over her table and brought the pistol up. She glanced a chubby, ethereal face hanging amid the flames. Without thinking, she fired twice into it, the gun roaring as it sent bursts of silver bullets ricocheting up the chimney. The face merely winced somewhat.

            "Sir Hellsing…" It began solemnly.

            "How do you know my name?" she asked, angrily, weapon still pointed at this strange apparition.

            "The round table, remember?"

            Integra halted…this wasn't…ah, but of course. She slowly holstered her gun, just as the door burst open to admit Walter, monowire already webbed between his fingers.

            "Put them away, Walter." She said, raising a hand, "It's our magical friends…" she turned to look at the man in the fireplace, his face suspended amid the flames, "Fudge, isn't it? Clarence Fudge?"

            "Cornelius Fudge, but not bad, Sir Hellsing. I don't think I've attended the round table since my appointment as minister of magic...our worlds seldom seem to overlap." He looked grave, "Until now. What do you know of Britain's magical places, Sir Hellsing?"

            Integra furrowed her brow as she attempted to recall half-remembered lessons from her father. She had always been more interested in vampires and werewolves than wizards and witches…

            "There's a village and castle in Scotland, that's the school, isn't it? Then there's a couple of streets in London, and some other odd buildings like the ministry and that hospital scattered around the city. The rest are all the houses of individual Witches and Wizards…" she looked at the minister, who's expression was grave, "Did I miss anywhere?" 

            "No," he said slowly, "You named too many. Hogsmeade, the village, no longer exists."

"What?"

Suddenly, the door burst open again, admitting Seras, her gun at the ready. She quickly holstered it when she saw that no-one seemed to be in danger, then jumped back, clutching at the door-frame.

"There's a head in the fire!" She squeaked.

"We're perfectly aware of that, Officer Victoria." Said Integra coldly, turning back to Fudge. "What do you mean, it no longer exists?"

"Just that. Earlier today, the village was burnt to the ground and its inhabitants slaughtered. From the few survivors, and there weren't many, our Aurors learnt that that there were only three attackers…and that they were muggles, sorry, non-wizards."

"I thought non-wizards weren't supposed to be able to enter a place like that?"

"They somehow found a way to nullify our magic."

"Iscariot." Said a deep voice from the wall behind Integra.

"Ah, Alucard, you're late."

"You weren't in any danger. I would have sensed any threat a mile off." He looked at the fireplace, "Ah, I see those damn wizards are causing trouble again."

Fudge ignored the vampires comment, directing himself instead to Integra.

"What is 'Iscariot'?" Asked the wizard, curiously.

"The three attackers you mentioned, were they dressed as clergy?"

"Why yes, how did you know…"

"We've had run-ins with these…_people_ before." Integra spat, "they're the militant arm of the Catholic church, insane zealots about as far removed from the stereotype of meek Christianity as you could get. They must have nullified your magic with an extension of whatever way it is they stop our vampires magic from working."

Fudge looked worried, "You mean, your vampires are ineffective against them as well?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that" smirked Alucard. "Even without our magic, we still have our ability to regenerate, as well as strength and speed surpassing any human."

Integra suddenly realised what Fudge was saying, "Wait a minute, you want us to send our vampires to defend you from Iscariot?"

"Of course! You've fought Iscariot before when they've invaded British soil, why not now?"

Integra was about to say something when she stopped. Why not indeed? She could hardly let the Catholics run rough-shod over people who were still, even if they technically did not exist, loyal subjects of the crown.

"But," she finally pointed out, "If we lend you our vampires, how are we supposed to defend this country against the depredations of the evil undead?"

"Would a squad of Aurors help? They train to deal with all conceivable magical threats. Vampire hunting should be no problem."

"Very well…I would have to speak to the government…"

"No need! It's already done. Her majesty and the Prime Minister fully endorse this course of action."

"Fine then. Where do you want them?"

"We have only one really vulnerable location, and that is the school, Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Everywhere else is either too small to defend or in London, where we already have assurances that we can count on the support of the Metropolitan police. If they strike anywhere else, it would be at the school. You cannot imagine how crippling a blow it would be: Nearly every wizarding family in the country sends their children there. Were they all to be killed…" he trailed off. 

"Indeed, it's a grave situation. I shall accompany out two top agents up there immediately, if you can send those darn Aurors…" She halted, "How are we supposed to get to the school anyway? I thought it was sealed against non-wizards…"

"Your vampires are magical creatures. They're able to enter any concealed location a wizard can. As for you, well, do you really need to go?"

"I will have to brief the Headmaster on how to care for the vampires, and have suitable quarters arranged for them. What is the headmasters name, by the way?"

"Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore. Well, ok, if you insist on going I suppose you must. We'll send someone from the department for misuse of muggle artefacts to enchant a vehicle for you so it can travel through the barriers. You won't be able to stay at Hogwarts long though…M…Non-Wizards aren't really allowed inside."

"Ok then, we'll start up as soon as your people get here."

"Thank-you, Sir Hellsing…" 

"I can't refuse royal prerogative, can I? I presume you won't be at Hogwarts?"

"No, You'll have to liaise with Dumbledore…he's, well, slightly eccentric, but good at heart, I suppose." He admitted this almost grudgingly. "He's kept that damned school safe from Voldemort so far, anyway." 

"Ah yes," Said Integra, "How is your little war against the dark lord going?" 

"Fine, until this new threat came up. We're counting on your support in this, Sir Hellsing. If this Iscariot were to destroy us, Voldemort would be able to rampage across the land, and once he'd taken over it wouldn't be long before he made himself known to the non-wizards." 

"Very well. I've sworn to protect this land against the forces of evil, so I suppose I can't refuse…these 'Aurors' of yours had better be up to the job though."

"Oh, don't worry, they will be…" he said, smiling grimly. "I may see you at the next round table meeting, Sir Integra." And with that, the flames roared up and the face faded from view.

"Wow…" gasped Seras, her jaw agape.

"Officer Victoria." Said Integra, turning to her,

"Yes 'm?" She said, giving a little jerk.

"Put those away" she indicated Seras' fangs, "And pack your things, you're going to Scotland for a while." She turned to Alucard as Seras gave a little curtseying nod and rushed from the room, "You too Alucard."

"As you command, Master." He said, disappearing back into the shadows Cheshire cat fashion, leaving just an impression of teeth and orange sunglasses.

Integra turned to Walter. "Does he need to pack? I don't think he actually owns any clothes…"

"He certainly never puts any out for the laundry, Sir Integra."

"Mmm…" murmured Integra, pondering the workings of her most annoying minion…"oh, pack my bag as well Walter, just for overnight…I'm not staying in some damned wizards castle a moment longer than I have to."

"Hmmm…" Said Walter, walking towards the door, "I suppose we should explain to Seras about the wizards sometime, otherwise she'll be walking around slack-jawed all the time, and I imagine that would scare some people."

"Give her the basics. We don't have time for a full briefing…"

Integra turned, and smiled to herself as Walter left. Perfect. A remote castle miles from anywhere were Alucard would be free to unleash his full ability on those Catholic dogs. She took out a cigar, and began to imagine the phone conversation where she asked Maxwell if he'd like her to mail him the pieces of his zealots…   
   


	3. Diagon Alley

**CHAPTER 2:**

More thanks than a disclaimer or authors note…this chapter could NOT have been written without , the Harry Potter lexicon, particularly the map of Diagon Alley (It's _ages_ since I read HP) Even with this sight's help I'm probably guilty of at least a few horrific blunders on the HP areas…Please forgive me if Madame Malkin already has a first name for example, I just made that up.

            The underground carriage was packed, the enclosed space filled with swaying bodies and uncomfortable silence. One corner, however, seemed to be somehow more clear, as if some subconscious instinct was making the passengers avoid standing too close to the blonde haired young woman in the pink jacket and blue flared jeans. For once, however, she did not mind their distance. It made it less hard to conceal the photograph she was gazing at with a rapt, wide eyed expression. The photograph had been handed to her by her master, Alucard. 'These wizards have funny ways' he'd said, 'you'll need some new clothes'. So, things had been arranged. She had then been told to go to a pub called the 'Leaky Cauldron', a place she had never heard of, and meet the man in the photograph, which had the directions to the pub on the back. The man in the photograph was odd, certainly. He was a giant, tall, broad, hugely bearded, but that was not what had her staring. No, she stared, because the photograph was moving. The man in it was smiling jovially, waving at the camera, occasionally chuckling to himself or turning aside to say something to some-one out of the picture. When Alucard had given the photograph, her jaw had nearly hit the floor, her fanged mouth agape at the animated picture. The elder vampire had merely shrugged and said something about 'Some foolish magic' when she had questioned him on it. She rotated the picture slowly in her hands, always being careful to keep it from the other passengers. Questions filled her mind. Was the little moving man in the picture alive? Did he think…could he see her? Were his movements repetitive, like a looping film? She watched carefully to see whether there was any pattern, but she couldn't see any…suddenly, she jerked upright, her enhanced senses easily catching the muffled announcement of the next stop. She tucked the photograph away into an inside pocket before exiting the train and heading up the escalators to the evening world above, the address of the pub running like a mantra through her brain. When she finally found it, she could hardly believe it: it looked small, shabby…hardly a haunt of magicians, a gateway to some secret world…then, she noticed how the passing people's gazes seemed to slip over it, how no-one in the rush hour crowd would even look at it, let alone enter it. She nodded slightly. This was the place.

            She felt eyes on her as she entered. People turned in their seats. She heard a stifled gasp…and no wonder. The people in here were…odd to say the least. All manner of strange dress and appearance was at this pub. She supposed her relative normality came as a shock.

            "Erm…" she stammered, trying to get back her confidence, "I'm looking for a Mr. Hagrid."

            "Hagrid ain't no mister." Said a voice from behind the bar. "He's gone to the loo." She walked over to investigate, and saw the bar-man, sitting in the shadows slowly rubbing a glass and staring at her intently. She sat down nervously on a bar stool and gave him a little smile.

            "Can, I, erm, get something to drink?" She asked, nervously.

            The barman put his glass down. "We don't serve what _you_ drink." She gave a little gasp as she said it, her hand clutching at the bar surface, fingernails leaving little scratch marks in the wood. Oh goodness! These people knew she was a vampire. No _wonder_ they were looking funnily at her. She felt herself cringe under the combined gazes, her eyes darting fearfully at the grim looking barman.

            "Now, Tom." Said a deep voice from behind her, "Don't go scaring the poor thing. She's a young 'un, and never killed from what I hear. She's on our side." She turned, and saw the man from the picture walking towards her across the room. He seemed to have become the focus for the various gazes.   

            "Good evening, Miss Victoria." He said, bowing his head slightly. She bowed her head to him as well, flinching at his massive presence. 

The big man laughed. "Ho, ho! You scared of me, that's a good 'un!" He laughed.

"Come on with you, let's get you kitted out like a witch then." The man didn't stop chuckling as he led them out to the back, Seras hunching down in her jacket collar to avoid those eyes, with their mixture of fear and revulsion, a mixture she knew all too well from the glances thrown to her by her fellow Hellsing officers. The look that a man gives a monster.

            "Good grief," Hagrid laughed, as he led them to a blank brick wall, "You're an odd one. I thought all you vampires were supposed to be ruthless bloodthirsty predators, but you seem…well, timid, quite frankly." He laughed again as he began to count bricks up and along the wall, "Not what I'd expect from something that could rip even my throat soon as look at me. Aha!" He had obviously found what he was looking for. "Hold on a second…" He rummaged in his huge coat, before withdrawing a tattered pink umbrella. He tapped a brick with it, and suddenly there was a harsh grating sound as bricks moved aside, sliding over each other before Seras astonished eyes to form an archway, through which the two stepped into a panoply of wonders. Seras felt her eyes almost popping out of their sockets as they walked down the street. They passed shops full of strange herbs and spices, a shop selling cauldrons, and another with a window full of broomsticks. She craned her neck to look at the sign, no longer really caring about the dark looks the robed figures about her were casting when they caught sight of her red eyes or pale skin.

            "What's Quidditch?" she asked, as she tried to work out what the prices on the various broomsticks in the window were supposed to mean.

            "Erm…it's complicated…I can tell you later if you want…" the big man said, obviously feeling a bit self conscious at dragging a muggle-clad midian through the streets, "Come on," he led them past what appeared to be a stationery shop "ah…this is the place."

            Seras looked up at the sign "Madame Malkin's robes for all occasions…a clothes shop?" This could be fun…she loved shopping for clothes, it was one of the few pleasures in her unlife that didn't make her feel revolted about herself, as drinking blood and entering battle rage still did. Hagrid entered, stooping slightly through the doorframe. Seras saw a short woman in long mauve robes appear from between a rack of extravagant-looking clothing.

            "Ah Hagrid, so good to see you again…" she said beaming, then her face faltered as she saw Seras walk in after him. Her eyes darted from Seras blood red eyes to the black ribbon she wore round her neck to hide her bite marks and blade scar, to her gloved hands, to her pale skin. The little woman swallowed slightly.

            "Florence" Said Hagrid, "This young woman needs dome proper witches robes."

            "Young woman, eh?" Said the mauve-clad witch, her eyes narrowing with that familiar look, "This is another crack-pot scheme of Dumbledore's isn't it? First that Werewolf, now this! I won't…"

            Hagrid raised a hand. "She works for Hellsing. I'm sure you've heard of them?"

            Madame Malkin gulped again and wrung her hands together. "Worse than the Death-Eaters themselves, some say…" she said in a half-whisper that Seras inhuman hearing could pick up perfectly.

            Hagrid snorted. "Hellsing fights evil, they're on our side!"

            "If they fight evil than why is that…"

            "That's quite enough!" Said Hagrid, more sharply than he had spoken before. "She's as much a person as you or me, Flo, and she's for us. She ain't never killed a man for his blood, and she isn't planning too soon, are ye miss Victoria?"

            She shook her head vigorously. "No…never drunk it…warm." She looked away, unwilling to face the small woman.

            Madame Malkin looked at Seras bewildered. "I thought…" she said, slowly, "I mean, in school, they said they were arrogant…and well…" She halted. Seras' cheeks had flushed ever so slightly, the vampire equivalent of turning bright crimson.

            The little woman swallowed. Hagrid was looking at her sternly. "That's what I've been trying to say! She ain't evil or cruel or anything, so why are you being mean to her, eh? Your as bad as them brutes from the ministry over poor Buckbeak…ought to be ashamed of yourself."

            She looked sheepish, "I'm, er, sorry, Miss Victoria, was it?"

            Seras beamed back at her, closing her lips slightly when she saw the woman wince from her fanged grin, and shook her head. "That's quite alright, Madame Malkin, I'm getting used to it." Her smile waned slightly as she smelt the scent of fear from the witch. Oh well, she supposed that was unavoidable…

            "So," Said Hagrid, with a sort of forced joviality, "Let's find some robes for Miss Victoria, shall we?"

            "Oh please, call me Seras," said Seras as she reached forward to examine a long sleeved garment of sky blue.

            It took Seras about a quarter of an hour to pick something she liked. She personally thought all the robes looked a bit ridiculous, like something from a fancy-dress party. Her normal choice in colours, light pinks and blues, were frankly absurd for such clothing, so she decided to go for something darker. Black had never been her colour, as well as being very stereotypical, in her opinion. Eventually, she decided on a plain wine red robe that reached down to her ankles and a set of red lace-up boots. Madam Malkin nervously said that they 'matched her eyes' before falling silent again. Seras smiled and gave herself a twirl in the mirror, once again thankful for the falsity of some of Stokers myths. At least now she looked like she could almost blend in with that crowd. She ordered several, filling up a  couple of shopping bags. Hagrid looked her over appraisingly. "Hmmm…You haven't got anything to cover your eyes, have you? They're what most people notice, I dare say…"

            "I have my day glasses…"Said Seras uncertainly, slotting her hand into the robes to the normal clothing she still wore underneath. She rummaged for a few moments than brought out a pair of big mirrored sunglasses that wrapped wound the side of her face, completely sealing her eyes off from the sun. She put them on and looked at herself in the mirror. Her appearance was odd, certainly…but then again, looking outside the window at the people passing by, odd seemed to be the way they did things here.

            "So," Said Hagrid, as they left the shop, "Will you stay at the Cauldron tonight or what?"

            Seras smiled. "I slept from six o'clock this morning to five o'clock this afternoon. I'm fine for sleep…"

            "Hagrid!"

            Seras turned round, to see three breathless teenagers, who couldn't on reflection be that much younger than she was, standing in the street. One of them, a dark haired boy with round glasses and a strange scar on his forehead, stepped forward. "Tom told us you were here…he seemed a little worried over something though, kept muttering about 'monsters and whatnot' "

            Another, a girl with frizzy hair, broke in. "You haven't been buying dragons eggs or anything again have you Hagrid…" She trailed off, her gaze suddenly averted to Seras.  She was put aback by the close scrutiny, eyes boring in her…then she nearly winced as she saw the girls eyes widen slightly as she came to some sort of realisation. She could guess what the realisation was. Damn. All that work, and she still was so obvious.

            "Of course not!" Said Hagrid, laughing jovially, perhaps ever so slightly forced. "I've got more sense than that, not with all the other troubles going on…"

            "That's what we wanted to talk about!" Said the third youth, a ginger-haired boy, "What's this we've heard about Hogsmeade…there are all sorts of terrible rumours going around..."

            Hagrid looked grave. "I'm afraid the worst of the rumours were true, children. There is no such place as Hogsmeade anymore…it was destroyed."

            The three teenagers gasped. "What, how on earth…I thought not even Voldemort would…?"

"It wasn't Voldemort." Said Hagrid, grimly, "It was someone far more dangerous."

"Who?" Asked the black haired boy, "Who could possibly be more dangerous than Voldemort?"

"Well kids, you know I'm not supposed to say anything but…"

At this point Seras coughed loudly. "As I said," continued Hagrid, "I'm not supposed to say anything."

"Who's that, Hagrid?" asked the ginger haired one.

"Oh, where are my manners. Children, this is Miss Victoria, she'll be at Hogwarts this term, she's an expert on the new threat. Miss Victoria. This is Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

"How do you do." Said Harry, the black haired one, stepping forward and stretching out a hand. Seras took it, hoping that her gloves prevented at least some of the grave-like chill of her flesh from seeping through. Not quite, she thought. She could see the boy look surprised as she took his hand, shocked at the coldness of her touch. That was what she hated most of all…no more warmth or hugs for Seras Victoria…

"As well as could be expected." She answered, somewhat cryptically, then turned to Hagrid, "I think I'll go walking back out in the streets of London. Where do I have to be for the train?"

"Platform nine and three quarters at Kings Cross."

"Ok…" she turned, "I'll be there…and I suppose I'll see you children again then, or maybe not…" Then she walked off into the crowd, which seemed to part for her of it's own accord, as if people were subconsciously making an effort to avoid her path.

Hagrid turned back to the three, "Aye, I'd better be going too…Don't want to be giving away secret information or anything…besides I've got a few errands to run while I'm here…see you up at the castle, eh?" and then he too turned, heading off in the opposite direction, away further down the alley, towards Gringotts.

"There was something a bit odd about that woman with Hagrid…" Said Ron uncertainly, eyes straining to catch her in the throng.

"Yes," Agreed Harry, "Did you see how pale she looked? She seemed very cold as well. Maybe she was ill?"

"Oh, I don't know how you two ever passed your exams!" Blurted out Hermione.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Asked Harry, turning a funny look at her.

"Oh, I'll leave you to figure it out for yourselves, though it's painfully obvious. 

Now come on, we have to get back to Grimauld place before it gets too late or we'll have the whole order out looking for us…"

            This had to be some sort of sick joke.

            Seras sighed out of frustration as she stood between Platforms Nine and Ten at King's Cross Station. There was no such thing as Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters, and she had spent most of the night standing here like a common idiot, waiting for this nonexistent train to arrive at a nonexistent platform so she could travel to the school.

            Perhaps she should have asked Alucard to teach her how to travel as he did, then she wouldn't be in this mess. . . . .

            The passers-by thought of her as a common teen caught up in the act of trying to wear gothic fashions, and she casually accepted the stares of the mortals, even flashing a fanged smile to them, knowing they would surely return home and laugh about the odd girl they saw near the train. If only they knew…

            Let them laugh. She hadn't changed from her robes that she purchased with Hagrid, and she still held a shopping bag full of other robes which she needed for other daily wear.

            Besides, if this Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters existed, someone would recognize her for what she was and direct her to the train she needed to catch.

            She just wished that whoever was going to find her did so soon...the sun was well over the horizon, and even the shadow of this pillar was uncomfortable...she needed darkness, the sunlight was draining her.

            "Come on Hermione. Tell us why that girl with Hagrid was so special?" The red haired teen she had seen earlier the previous evening chuckled, pushing a luggage cart that was overflowing with trunks, boxes, suitcases…and an owl?

            The frizzy haired girl- Hermione, Seras noted- only rolled her eyes in response. "Seriously. I don't know how you passed your OWLS Ron."

            Well, now was a good time as any to ask somewhat familiar faces about which train she should be taking. If these kids had been in Diagon Alley, they should know how something about Hogwarts.

            "Excuse me," Seras smiled, falling in step with the three, right next to the black haired teen with the scar on his forehead, "but how do you get to Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters?"

            Harry Potter turned to glance over her before smiling, albeit half-heartedly. "Just follow us. We're going to run straight in to that pillar over there." He stated, pointing at a perfectly centred red brick pillar between the two platforms. "You're Miss Victoria, right?"

            "Yeah. Just please, call me Seras. I don't like the formality."

            "See ya on the other side, mate." The one with the cart smiled, running straight at the pillar, not slowing down as he neared it, and was immediately gone.

            "How-?"

            "You haven't been around much magic, have you?" Hermione glanced over at the vampire. "Don't worry. Just hold on to my arm and run with me."

            Seras obliged, making sure not to press too hardly on the girl's shoulder, and stayed in perfect stride with her as they were engulfed in a bright white light and soon were standing at a bustling train station, filled with people wearing robes and other garish clothing that signified this must be a magic only area. 

            The black haired teen was soon through the pillar, sighing as he looked between Ron, Hermione, and Seras. "Well, do you want to share a compartment with us? We'll have less chance of sitting with Luna or some first years that think I'm some grand celebrity or absolute lunatic, right?" With a chuckle, he headed for the train, with the other three following close behind.

            The train was one of those old fashioned ones Seras had only ever seen in films, with long corridors and separate compartments, each seating about four. They hurried along till they found an empty one, and Seras and the three teenage wizards bundled in, the other three bustling to put all of their luggage on the racks whilst Seras sat down and pulled down the blinds. Much better…

            "What are you doing?" Asked the black haired one, she thought he was called Harry, looking at her bemusedly.

            "Shutting out that dammed bright light." She said, settling down in the seat next to the window, and gathering her new robe around her. "Sorry…But…" She had suddenly remembered. They didn't know. Curse her! She was so used to being around the fearful but knowledgeable Hellsing officers or more recently the equally fearful and knowledgeable adult wizards that she had forgotten that these children didn't know her for what she was, didn't fear her, except maybe the girl…and she had just gone and blown that hadn't she? Silly fool Seras. You'll ride up alone. Who wants to share their railway compartment with a monster?

            "Why would you want to shut out the light?" Asked the red haired one, Ron? "It's not that bright anyway…" he reached a hand for the blind, tweaking it open slightly. She hissed involuntarily and slapped his arm away, as lightly as she could under the circumstances. He cried out and held his arm. "Ow!…there was no need to hit me so hard…" he sat down opposite her. She looked down, averting her eyes from him. She felt ashamed.

            "What's going on here?" Said Harry, sitting next to her. "Who are you anyway?"

            Hermione sighed. "You still haven't figured it out?" She sat down too, flicking a watchful glance at Seras, "After all the signs you've seen? Didn't you pay attention to any of your defence against the dark arts lessons?" 

            "How would that tell us…" Ron began. Hermione cut him off. "Pale skin, cold to the touch, aversion to sunlight…" she ticked the points off on her fingers.

            "I still don't…"

            "Gah!" Exclaimed Hermione. She turned to Seras. "Do you want to reveal yourself, or shall I?"

            Seras cringed at the words.

            "Please…" she murmured, "I just want to be left in peace…"

            "Fine." Said Hermione, "Let's find another compartment…" She stood up, only to sit down again as the train began to move off.

            "It's started," Said Ron, "All the compartments will be full."

            "What is it about her anyway…" Asked Harry, looking across at Seras, who had hid her face in her hands.

            Hermione almost exploded. "She's a vampire!"

            "What?" Asked the other two, incredulously, looking at her.

            "It's true." Said Seras, looking up, "A genuine night-walking, blood-drinking monster." She spoke sadly, knowing the impact her words would cause. "I can't blame you, dear." She said, looking at Hermione. "Who'd want to share space with such a hideous thing?"

            Hermione looked pained. "No, that wasn't what I meant, What I was saying was…"

            "It doesn't matter what you were saying." Said Seras, darkly. "It was what you were _thinking_. Your mouth sprouts kindnesses but your mind screams 'Monster! Monster!' How could anyone want to be with something that sleeps in a coffin and revives itself every evening with a pint of medical blood?" She was on the verge of tears. Oh, how she hated this. She was meant to be alone, why couldn't they just go…

            She saw Hermione sit down. "You're still a person." She said, smiling slightly. 

            "What?" Asked Seras, jerking her head up in surprise. 

            "Look," Said Harry, smiling, "I don't know about everyone else you've ever been around, but me, Ron and Hermione here have seen lots of weird things. We've seen enough of Voldemort and his henchmen to know what evil is…and I'm pretty sure you're not it. I've made plenty of mistakes before, but this one I'm pretty sure about. What do you think Ron?"

            "You're a vampire?" Asked the red haired boy.

            "Yes" She nodded.

            "Cool! I know this guy called Lupin who's a werewolf!"

"Really…" What on earth…she had never got this reaction before, 

ever…where was their fear, their loathing of the dreadful thing she was. "I mean," Said Harry, "You said medical blood, so you don't kill people, do you?"

            "We don't need to kill people actually…just a bite will do…we only really need one or two pints a night, more if we've been injured or have used our vampiric powers a lot…anything else is just greed, a victory for your inner demon."

            "Inner demon…" Hermione murmured. 

            "Yes…" Said Seras, "Demon." She paused slightly, then yawned. She smelt the tiniest tang of fear as they saw her teeth.

            "Look, I'm tired. I've been up for hours and the sunlight's drained me. You won't disturb me, will you? I sleep very deeply, so you can talk, just don't touch me, or I'll probably have my teeth clamped round your throat before I realise what's happening." 

            "Erm…okay." Said Harry, backing away from her ever so slightly. Seras actually had no idea about what her reaction to a sudden awakening would be, but she wanted a peaceful days rest, and it was better safe than sorry anyway. She plumped her bag of spare robes up as a pillow and placed it behind her head, then removed her glasses, showing them her red eyes for a few moments before she closed them,  and lay back, subconsciously folding her arms as if she were still in her coffin. The rattling of the train soon sent her to sleep, and she did not awake until the train arrived that evening at the partly ruined Hogsmeade station.

              
       


	4. Insubordination

This is so much fun. ^_^ Too bad this is a rewrite from my original, because you guessed it- my jump drive is corrupted still! *cheers*  
  
For the love of God, I think I may have characterized Snape wrong. See, when I was writing him, the only image in my mind was of Allan Rickman as the Metatron in Dogma. So let me know if I've nailed this characterization or not, and if I didn't, let me know what's wrong with it so I can fix it.  
  
Thanks for all the support and hopefully Khar will be quicker with his next chapter. ^_^ I'm sure he hates me for having this already done before he even finished chapter 2.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Sir Integral Hellsing, welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please feel free to let me know if anything can be done to make your stay pleasant, despite altering the circumstances that bring you here."  
Integra sighed as she surveyed the man standing in front of her. Even though he seemed quite amiable, his long, flowing robes and great shock of white hair and beard that came to the middle of his chest were just too much for her conservative tastes. If he lived in the real world, the leader of Hellsing was certain the man would be treated like a common beggar or tramp and be forced to shelters and soup kitchens because of his appearance.  
So this was what the wizarding world wished to keep secret- tawdry styles and cheap parlor tricks that supposedly led to a greater power and understanding of life.  
These people must be descended from the alchemists and court entertainers from the earliest days of English and other European nobility. Her father had never spoken much on the subject of magical persons either in England or throughout the world during her studies as a child, save for that they existed and were generally harmless in regard to the true citizens of the UK.  
The white haired man remained silent as a slight smirk crossed the platinum blond's lips as she stared at the stately Scottish castle, wondering why these people insisted on hiding in the shadows. People today had embraced FREAK vampires as a reality, so were they afraid of commoners wanting to join their ranks, or were they afraid of the trials of heresy starting once again as had been done in the Middle Ages, trials that had claimed the lives of so many mortals and true witches alike.  
If that was the case, hiding proved to be just as lethal now that Iscariot was suspected of the massacre at Hogsmeade.  
"Albus Dumbledore, thank you for graciously opening your school to both my employees and me, but I am afraid that Mr. Ddollneazz and I will be leaving just as soon as I can brief you about the care of my vampires."  
"Would you please stay for dinner tonight?" The elderly wizard smiled as he offered Integral his hand, who in turn took it for the sake of proper etiquette, allowing him to lead her up the stairs and through the great oak doors in to the castle just as darkness began to descend on the land. "Tonight is the sorting feast, and it is not very often that we have a muggle in our presence, let alone a Knight, Sir Hellsing."  
He was trained in courtly manners. Great. This would be another boring evening of politeness and flattery, most likely culminating with some sort of formal ball.  
"I do hate to appear ungrateful, but I do realize that your people do not wish for me to be here in the first place, as I do not wish to intrude on your territory. This is your world and I am not part of it, so if I could insist on completing my assignment, I can leave before your feast even begins."  
Dumbledore sighed, still leading Integral toward the Great Hall with Walter just a few steps behind the pair. "I'm afraid that my guests have already assembled and are awaiting my presence for the affair to begin."  
Integral sighed, glancing back to Walter, who remained emotionless as he followed. "Fine. I accept your offer. Mr. Ddollneazz and I stay for dinner only, and then we must discuss the treatment of Alucard and Seras Victoria."  
"Very well." Dumbledore smiled as he led the two through the Great Hall toward the head table along the near wall. The older Slytherins glared at the two strange muggles as they passed, suppressing their laughter only because the headmaster was near.  
If not for the candles floating in the air above the long tables and the grand glittering decorations above each of the four student sections in what must be their group's colors, Integra could have seen this grand feast as any other opening ceremony for any of the private schools the privileged children in the United Kingdom attended.  
Or so she figured private school was like this. She had only ever been trained by private tutors and later Arthur and Walter inside Hellsing manor.  
"Professor Snape," Dumbledore smiled as he released Integral's hand, taking his place next to the greasy haired potions instructor, who was standing between the empty end of the Slytherin table and the faculty table, his hands folded behind his back as he surveyed the students of his house, not seeming to notice the two muggles that accompanied the headmaster. "this is Sir Integral Hellsing. She is the master of the two vampires that will be residing in your house until our little, problem, is solved."  
"Mr. Snape, I have a list of rules and commands to ensure the welfare of my Organization's finest members. Your headmaster has insisted that I stay for dinner, but I am quite anxious to discover how much knowledge you have of vampires."  
Snape's black eyes quickly turned from his students, glaring directly in to the icy depths of the leader of Hellsing. This woman certainly had some nerve telling him about magical creatures. Normally, he would have leaned over the person he was trying to intimidate, but as the woman was equally as tall as he was, he could only glare and scowl in the hopes she would leave him alone. "Tell me, miss, when you learned the Defense Against the Dark Arts from your untrained father, did he instruct you on how to care for a vampire?"  
Integral narrowed her eyebrows, folding her arms across her chest. "How DARE you take such a tone."  
The potions professor remained calm, only a slight smirk giving any indication to his true feelings. "Any bumbling dolt with a blood packet and a cellar can care for a vampire. Now tell me, what is your vampire's favorite blood type so I know which students I need to warn."  
"Sir Integra," Walter smiled casually as he bowed to his master, "Headmaster Dumbledore has arranged a seat for you at the faculty table."  
"Thank you Walter." Her stony glare remained on the man charged with the care of Alucard and Seras, annoyed by the sheer audacity of his words, as she made her way behind the great table where outlandishly dressed witches and wizards were already seated and conversing between themselves.  
A card with a Sir I. Hellsing was placed to the immediate right of Dumbledore's seat of prominence at the center of the table, and the young leader of Hellsing graciously sat next to the headmaster of the school, surveying the crowd yet again. A place setting for Walter was at the far end of the table, and the elderly gentleman had already taken a seat next to a small white haired wizard who was animatedly speaking with the retainer, obviously excited to be face to face with a non-wizard.  
But that was not what bothered her. The place card and setting to her immediate right belonged to Professor Snape, the condescending jackass that dared insult her! If Dumbledore expected her to behave civilly to a pompous ass, well, he would be surprised if Snape had one more negative comment for her. . . .  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"So which one d'ya suppose is the new DADA professor? I hope it's not that man in muggle clothes next to Snape."  
"Ron, that man in muggle clothes is actually a woman." Hermione nodded as she turned her attention toward the faculty table, her prefect's badge polished brightly for this year's term. "And if you paid any attention in Professor Binns class, the red and black insignia on her jacket would obviously indicate that she is the leader of the Hellsing Organization, though I thought they were controlled by a man."  
"Maybe they just had a change in leaders." Harry added, looking toward the doors where Hagrid and Professor McGonnagal shuffled the first years in to the Great Hall and toward the faculty table where the sorting process would take place.  
"Well, whoever she is, d'ya think she's going to be the DADA professor? She was arguing with Snape earlier. I bet that's another blow to the ol' ego for that slimy git. To think, a vampire's guardian would get the job before him."  
"Ron, I doubt Professor Dumbledore would give someone with less magic than a squib a professorship, even if she begged him for the job. And don't you remember what Hagrid told us in Diagon Alley? Someone, most likely the Hellsing Organization since they've come here, is sending agents to protect the school from whatever it was that ransacked Hogsmeade."  
"Oh yeah, that Seras girl." Ron's attention now focused on the Sorting Hat as it began screaming out the different houses each new student was assigned into. "She was odd."  
Hermione Granger rolled her eyes, not wanting to argue with her friend. Ron had become increasingly stubborn over the summer, and this just was not the proper time to try to explain what was really occurring.  
Besides, the sorting was quickly coming to an end thanks to the massacre at Hogsmeade just a few days prior claiming the lives of many first year students whose parents brought them to the village for a treat just before the school year began, and Professor Dumbledore would most likely comment on the situation in his opening words to the students, explaining who and what everyone new at the table was and why they were currently at Hogwarts. She surely did not want to miss the official explanation.  
As always, Hermione was correct. Taking the Sorting Hat and the stool it rested on from the center of attention, Dumbledore stood behind his seat, looking around the Great Hall at every one of the students in his care.  
"Some of the sixth and seventh years may know that I used to be able to just welcome every one of you and then we would begin the feast, but this year we must reflect on the recent occurrences, or pray if that is your choice," he said with a smile directed at Integra, "for the lives lost in Hogsmeade only days ago."  
The entire of the Great Hall remained silent for at least three minutes, less the shuffling on the benches by the new first years. Looking around at the sea of bowed heads, Dumbledore allowed himself a solemn smile before continuing.  
"The Ministry of Magic is concerned for the safety of all wizarding persons across the United Kingdom since the attack. Because of this, Hogwarts will be housing two new magical creatures this year that have accepted the challenge of keeping the grounds safe from any possible threat. They are going to reside in Slytherin house, and Professor Snape has already agreed to care for them.  
"Alucard, Seras, please come to the faculty table."  
Integral quickly turned to her left as she watched Seras smile and politely wave to the students as she hurried to where Dumbledore stood. She was wearing long wine colored robes, very similar in style to what the other magical persons were wearing.  
"I'm sorry, but my Master did not wish to come tonight." The vampire whispered to the headmaster before stepping to an empty seat near Walter at the faculty table.  
"It seems that only Seras has decided to join us tonight. I am certain that you will all meet Alucard at least once during his stay.  
"Seras is a vampire." A collective gasp rose from most every student, with a few first years sliding nearly all the way under the tables upon hearing this news. "She and her associate have been trained to hunt vampires and other potentially dangerous magical creatures, which is why the Ministry has asked Sir Hellsing," He nodded toward Integra, "if we could borrow her hunters until our problem is solved.  
"Sir Hellsing will be leaving tomorrow, and I would like all of you to refrain from asking her question about her line of work. I know some of you future aurors would love the chance to learn how to hunt magical creatures as she does, but do stay away from Sir Integra, just as we all know to stay away from the Forbidden Forest.  
"And the other question that I am absolutely certain is on most of the returning student's minds- who is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year. Ellianna Pembroke recently graduated from Beauxbatons Academy, but she was a student at Hogwarts during her first through third years, only moving because her mother's job transferred to the Continent. She was a member of Ravenclaw during her tenure here, and I am certain that you will all enjoy Professor Pembroke's lessons.  
"And I hope you will decide to stay here in that position for quite a long time Ellianna."  
Dumbledore chuckled, winking at the mousy-haired woman just to the right of Professor McGonnagal.  
"I'll try to make it work, Professor." She chuckled, smiling as she surveyed the crowd once again.  
At his command, food appeared on every table in the dining hall, including more traditional muggle dishes and beverages for Integral and Walter, and a blood packet for Seras.  
Soon, Integra could inform the headmaster of proper care not of a vampire, but of Alucard, and return with Walter to her London home, even if it required driving the car herself while the retainer slept in the backseat.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"So do you understand?" Integra sighed as she lit her third cigar of the meeting, her olive jacket resting over the back of a grand polished mahogany chair as she and the Potions professor remained alone in the headmaster's office while Dumbledore attended to the new DADA professor's needs. "Or must I repeat it again for you only slower this time?"  
Snape remained motionless in his chair, bored with the situation. "Ms Hellsing, I know enough students with dispositions very much like your Alucard, and I know the best way to treat them. A problem vampire should not be treated any differently than a problem student."  
"A problem vampire?" The shining smile and orange tinted glasses characteristic of Alucard were the first images of himself visible to both Snape and Integral, though soon he stood in his complete form, leaning against Dumbledore's desk as he casually looked between the two. "You're going to be fun to work for, Snivellus."  
Integral only smirked as she watched the professor's expression harden at Alucard's words, enjoying that the smarmy bastard was finally meeting an equal in cynicism.  
"It seems that my master has finally found an person comparable in sheer force of will, but tell me Snivellus, what is the difference between your kind and the other non-human filth that I am bound to eliminate?" Laughing, the vampire stepped closer to the professor, bending down so that he could be face to face with the man. "Your kind's pride is even more than my master's species. It's truly pathetic."  
"Alucard, enough." Exhaling the smoke in a thin trail from her lips, Integra pulled her olive jacket on once again, stepping toward the door only after making certain that her hair lay flat on her back after pulling from between the jacket and her blouse. "You can have your fun with the magical folk later, but until the Iscariot threat to our nation has been completely eradicated, Mr. Snape will be both Seras' and your guardian. He also does know the incantations for the Control Art Restriction system and I have given him full authority to exercise control over you at any time deemed necessary. You have your orders Alucard, and I expect you to complete them without flaw or hesitation. Your Master Hellsing commands it."  
Walter had been standing just outside the office doors throughout the entire meeting, and smiled at his charge as she walked from the inner room to the hall, not once giving notice to the ornate bookshelves and moving portraits lining the walls. Following Integral, the two mortal members of the Hellsing Organization made their way through the castle toward where their car would be waiting in complete silence.  
She knew that the professor fully understood what he must do for Alucard and Seras, and she knew that his pride as a noble of his kind, albeit an obviously disgraced member of the aristocracy, was what forced his attitude to be so distant to those who wished an audience with him.  
This attitude was common in the lower Lords and younger children of the royal family, and she could deal with it more quickly than she could the stares of the students as the glared at her as she sat in the Great Hall at the feast earlier in the evening.  
The potions master would care for the vampires correctly, there was no doubt in her mind to the contrary. She had only been concerned that the man would not be able to command Alucard's respect.  
Snape watched the blond woman leave with the elderly gentleman that seemed to be her version of a house elf, then turned back to Alucard, who was now amusing himself by browsing the bookshelves that lined the walls.  
"Vampire, follow me."  
Alucard smirked yet again. Should he humor the man?  
"I do have a name, Snivellus."  
"Mr. Alucard, if you would get your hooked nose out of those books, I would like to show you to the dungeons where you can spend your days."  
Chuckling, Alucard stepped in to the bookcase, seemingly passing through it as he moved. But Severus knew better. The vampire was playing with him, and he could not allow such insolence to run rampant through his house and his classroom.  
Leaving the office, Snape quickly headed for the dungeons, hoping to find either of the vampires already there and patiently waiting for his tour of the Slytherin house and the rooms where their coffins would be kept.  
But then again, in all of his Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons, he had never once heard that vampires ever did what they had been ordered to do, unless it somehow benefited them personally.  
He surely hoped that the need for daytime shelter would prevail as a personal benefit for this vampire. 


	5. Boniface V

Whoo. . . . .the original plans had this chapter combined with the previous. Unfortunately, I was carried away with the ideas, because before I had even come close to finishing the first section of this chapter the entire thing was twelve pages long.  
  
And that's just a bit much for one chapter.  
  
So I broke it where I felt it would be logical to break the story.  
  
As always, review if you're reading this. We love hearing from you, the readers. *hops on proverbial soap box* And to those of you out there that seem to have this issue of complaining about people while using their pen names in signed reviews, on blogs, etc., (I haven't seen anyone complaining about me yet, though I'm sure for saying something like this y'all will throw a fit because I'm being nasty or whatever you wish to say about me) I personally feel it's a defamation of character to do such a thing, even though you are using just pen names. *hops back down* This is just something that really gets me, since I had to go through a nasty defamation of character trial just months ago, and I was the one that started the legal action against the person who got me kicked out of. . . .well, if you know me, you know what happened. Let's just leave it at that.  
  
Response Psycofoxx who said that in PA it states that 'no real witches or wizards were killed in the hunts in the middle ages'. In all honesty, I forgot they said that, but. . . . .if there had been such a thing as Iscariot in the HP universe, I bet some real witches and wizards would have been found and killed.  
  
Please review. Khar and I love them. ^_^  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Events in Scotland were occurring much too quickly for the Iscariot membership, and Father Maxwell had promised the benefactor that the entire populations of both the nonexistent Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School would be to the point of near extinction in only a matter of days. A few wizards were supposed to survive the onslaught, if only to tell the tale of God's wrath, and how it affected their people, like a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah.  
But it did not matter what Father Maxwell promised the benefactor anymore. This mission was far too intricate to rush blindly into the midst of these devil-worshipping heathens, and was obviously going to be more difficult than initially predicted.  
On a scouting mission just three days prior, Heinkel reported to the group that the children and staff members of this Hogwarts school recently arrived at the castle and were already moving about their daily activities, seemingly without concern for the present threat. She had watched the students cross the lake in small boats or ride in horseless carriages to the main entrance, wishing to draw her weapons and take her sniper's position from her vantage point. It would have been quick, efficient, and near perfect for the mission objective, but the sister knew that such an incident would cause these people to have heightened security, which would make the journey to destroy the rest nearly impossible  
Iscariot would have to move quickly, she stated that night during dinner, if they wished to succeed with the mission, all the while remaining indifferent about the time restraints given in tour of duty as well as the thought of sending more souls on the journey to hell. The change in tactics was a simple necessity- she could sense that these witches and wizards were looking for the slightest sign of the hunters that ransacked Hogsmeade just days prior, and with any extra time, they could most likely find a way to nullify the magic currently used by Iscariot.  
Anderson remained unaffected by the thought of killing children, many of which had yet to learn how to control the dark arts associated with their wizarding heritage. Anyone with even the slightest inclination toward sacrilegious tendencies deserved the punishment awaiting them in hell, or so was the Dogmatic law of Iscariot and the belief of their most successful hunter. That was the fate brought upon their race through the sins of their fathers, and the earth must be cleansed of all impure blood to make way the path of the Lord.  
Yumiko became perpetually silent when near the two other hunters upon learning this new information about the mission. Harming terrorists or other insurgents that fully realized what they were doing against God and the church was a completely different matter than slaughtering children that were only obeying their parents' commands. Hadn't Jesus claimed to be a champion of the children, loving them for their innocence and inherent goodness, no matter if they were Gentile or Jew? She couldn't stand to let Yumie run wild on innocents or children, and yet she knew Heinkel and Father Anderson would force her other personality to the surface if she did not willingly comply with her superiors. And of course, Yumie would revel in the bloodshed, even if the mere thought of it nauseated her other half. She always did.  
Father MacMullen, the head pastor of Sacred Heart parish and school, allowed Sister Yumiko a place as a guest instructor in the upper level religion classes, which she accepted immediately. Being around good, wholesome, and most importantly, Catholic children could keep her mind off of the upcoming tragedy that she would help create.  
But maybe, if she prayed hard enough, God would give her fellow Iscariot members a sign that forbade an attack on the school. So every moment spent outside of the classroom was spent in silent prayer to St. Jude, asking for his intercession.  
Heinkel continued her scouting missions throughout every day, only reluctantly leaving her post to eat or attend mass at the insistence of her superiors. She had to find a way for Iscariot to attack this school's entire population without leading her associates in to a trap.  
That would be the challenge. Each day as she sat in a tall oak holding her binoculars to her eyes, the sister observed wizards, who were most likely the teachers, placing spells or curses on different random points along the perimeter.  
She had no idea how to move around such a barrier, but if anyone could learn the weakness of absolutely any person or material and then how to use their weakness against them, it was Heinkel. It was in this way that she spent most of her evenings, wandering near the ruins of Hogsmeade.  
But it was Anderson that was having the most difficulty with the current situation. Of course he possessed enough Holy magic to nullify the effects of all other types on his person, but ever since the attack on the village, or so Heinkel told him recently, armed guards, both mortal and wizard, now patrolled the town where the priest and nuns sought refuge, as well as magical creatures of some sorts- Heinkel had never seen or heard stories of large part horse part bird animals before- being placed around the borders of the castle's grounds. She assumed they were for protection, but she was not certain.  
Finding a way inside this monstrosity of a castle that to mortal eyes did not exist was proving much more difficult than either he or Father Maxwell originally anticipated. It was seemingly impregnable and must have been a grand fortress in its day, hundreds of years before these devil- children came to reside inside its walls.  
But orders given by Maxwell were orders to be followed, and he would continue his research in to the ancient scriptures, searching for any clues that former exorcists had left for future generations to find about dealing with the dark sprits used in witchcraft and wizardry while the other two contributed in their own way to the mission.  
Maxwell sent an entire trunk filled with dozens of books, dating as far back as the time of Christ himself. Somewhere, in one of these ancient manuscripts, would be the secret to tracking and killing real witches and wizards.  
At least that was what Anderson hoped.  
After reading the fifteenth ancient manuscript of the evening, Anderson decided that he needed to get away from the church and his studies. Certainly, the early members of Iscariot had kept records about vampires, werewolves, demons, sin eaters, and accounts of witch trials, but nothing was said more than the primitive methods used in killing what were most likely innocent mortals branded with the unforgivable crimes.  
Yes, the church had made mistakes when dealing with witches and wizards in the past, but this time would be different. This time Anderson knew that he had found genuine specimens, not just shallow women and men that only claimed to follow the teachings of wicca or whatever their supposed religion was called in this age.  
Slipping a white clerical collar around his neck to signify that he was a man of the cloth and therefore supposedly harmless, Anderson stopped short as he reached the wooden door of the rectory. Should he tell someone he was going out? No, he really didn't want to be bothered while at whatever pub he could find.  
Silently, he turned the knob on the door, narrowing his eyes in the bright afternoon sun. The summer air was not stagnant with excess humidity, as it would be in Italy this time of year, invigorating his senses as he basked in its warmth. God made this day glorious, and he should take advantage of God's kindness by relaxing this beautiful day.  
"Alex," Heinkel's accented voice came from behind him, her bare feet moving soundlessly on the carpeted floor, as her baby blue cotton pants swished effortlessly with her strides, "I meant to give this to you sooner, but I was too. . . .tired. . . .after coming home from the pub last night. I went down to the burned village to search the wreckage, and this was unharmed. I think it is useful."  
The Sister of Iscariot held the large white leather bound book out toward Anderson, who carefully accepted the gift, only raising an eyebrow to the nun presenting herself in her night clothes, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. "That's odd for just one book to be lying amidst the remnants of a charred city."  
"What's even more strange is the title."  
Turning the large leather bound tome over in his hands, Anderson's eyes grew wide as he stared down at golden print etched the front cover. "Spells and Charms for Holy Crusades".  
"It's too convenient that this survived, Heinkel. The wizards probably charmed it so they could spy on us somehow."  
The nun shook her head, her hair now covering her eyes and barely tumbling down upon her bare shoulders. "I don't feel dark magic near it, and I read the first part- it's in Latin. The rough translation is something like 'For those God-serving individuals use only. Wizardry can prove harmless to those graced with God's love'. Apparently one of the early papal advisors created this, and its sealed with a magic that cannot be destroyed by those wielding white magic, like us. That's how it survived the assault on the village."  
Anderson opened the book to the first yellowed and moth eaten page, quickly skimming the paragraphs that composed the preface. Yes, some minor bishop named Marcus Augerian compiled this collection through a papal order, but the timing of its arrival still seemed strange.  
"I'll let you know when I find something useful."  
Stripping the collar from his neck as he turned back toward his quarters in the rectory, Father Anderson sighed as he quickly moved across the room with the book under his arm. His perfect afternoon of leisure had just been ruined because the girl decided to drink herself stupid once again instead of returning to the sanctuary after completing her daily scouting mission, as she had been instructed many days prior.  
But perhaps this book found amidst the ruins of the village really could help his cause. Then he needed to spend every waking moment learning the spells printed in this tome, and then teach those spells to his associates, creating an all powerful team of hunters of the supernatural.  
There would never be rest for the weary, as long as orders still remained on the field.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The priest sighed as he removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose to alleviate the tension headache forming just behind his eyes after many hours of staring at the book. While he seemingly wasted the beautiful day away in the confines of the unairconditioned rectory office, Anderson had actually found the spells he would need to complete his mission inside this ancient text.  
Every single spell invoked the white magics, but not these were not the typical healing and purifying spells learned in his youth during training as one of the Vatican's special agents in Section Thirteen. These were combative, offensive; absolutely perfect for an inquisition.  
That was exactly what the spells were intended to be used for. The book was written about the time of the coming of the Prophet Mohammed, and it was obvious in the author's notes compiled in the margins that Boniface V wanted any challengers to the faith destroyed.  
And yet Mohammed was never destroyed. The author credited that disappointment to change in the papacy during a crucial time in the Arabian desert. The new leader of the church, being more interested in converting more of the Roman population than worrying about the spread of one man's ideas for a new faith, abandoned the project that Marcus Augerian had been assigned, and the book was obviously less ornate and specific with its spells halfway through.  
Sighing, the priest flipped to another half-written page, easily skimming through the Latin as if it had been his first language.  
But what were these studies in white magics proving? Father Anderson could read the printed words, discern a spell from a passage of text, and even perform a few minor charms without much trouble, but without the proper training, he could not excel at a suitable pace, nor would he ever learn to perform the more difficult spells that he needed more than the simple charms for a task of such proportion.  
"How can I learn this?" It was merely a thought, a verbal expression of his exasperation stated out of sheer frustration as he stared at the pages. No one was in the rectory to hear him or reply- Father MacMullen and Sister Yumiko had gone in to town to buy the necessities for the group and Heinkel was still out on a scouting mission once again, promising to not go to the pub this evening after she finished her rounds.  
There was no explanation for what happened to the book after the question had been asked. On the left page of the ones he was currently looking over, the ornate pictures began to swirl together, changing to form a sentence that was written in the same calligraphy as the rest of the text, less the words being written in English.  
'Find a wizard to teach you.'  
The priest blinked a few more times, absolutely confused. The stress of the mission must finally be catching up with him for his mind to play such tricks on his eyes. But nevertheless, perhaps he would have some sort of miraculous vision that could prove useful to the mission during his delusion. So what if he was currently insane? Wasn't every single prophet considered mad at one point or another during their ministry?  
"Book, how will I know which wizard will teach me?"  
A few seconds passed before the text swirled on the page once again before settling to form a picture of a miniature man standing in the front of a classroom, waving his hands and speaking excitedly about something. Above the picture the name "Flitwick" was inscribed.  
If true, this new vision could prove to be grand. Anderson knew exactly who and what his target was now, and that this man was obviously a teacher. The only logical place that a wizarding teacher could work would be Hogwarts, and the school was just a few kilometers away.  
Of course, he had to believe that the book was actually responding to his thoughts to justify going after the wizard on the page.  
"How do I get to Flitwick without being noticed?"  
The picture of Flitwick swirled around the page, becoming a jumble of lines once again before settling once again.  
'Think like the vampire'  
Think like the vampire? Anderson sighed as he closed the white leather-bound book before standing from the desk to stretch his long limbs. What did that mean? Vampires were single minded, devilish creatures that only followed their instinct to drink blood and charm virgins in to giving their bodies and souls to the service of Satan himself.  
Wait.  
Alucard.  
Anderson smirked as he moved to the front door of the rectory, passing Father MacMullen and Yumiko as they carried groceries toward the kitchen. The sister knew the mischevious glint in her fellow Iscariot member's emerald eyes and held her tongue, knowing it to be better that way.  
Slipping his long coat on over the short sleeved black dress shirt he wore as part of his summer ensemble, Anderson stepped in to the warm evening air, knowing exactly what he needed to do in order to capture the professor without being caught.  
And if all went according to the Divine Plan, he would be in and out of the demon's institution before anyone noticed he had even arrived.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Filius Flitwick hummed softly to himself as he sorted through the health histories and other information about the new first years that had been sorted in to his house- Ravenclaw- as he sat in his high office in the West Tower. Only ten students joined the group this year, and luckily it was an equal distribution of boys and girls which would make the Ravenclaw social activities much more fun for everyone, since no one would be left out, at least in theory.  
The new students all seemed to be in good health, except for one girl, Abigail Waverly, who suffered from slight vertigo. He would have to make sure to encourage her to find some sort of potion or spell to help ease this ailment, since such things did exist.  
"Oh dear," he stated as he glanced up at the ornate wooden clock, which was now reading near six, "I'm missing dinner."  
Stacking the papers neatly in the center of the desk, Filius Flitwick hopped from his chair, thinking about what wonderful new meal the house elves had created this day. He would surely have to pay them a visit to thank them for their grand service to the school.  
The elder wizard narrowed his eyes as he felt the wind rush through his office, not remembering when he opened the window to his office. Papers were now flying absolutely everywhere, and the tiny wizard jumped after them, trying to catch them all before they were in complete disarray.  
But it wasn't until he turned around that the small man saw a flurry of grey fabric rush toward him, engulfing him in its depths as his world became dark.  
Whoever was holding him was quite strong, and was not likely to let go even if he struggled. He had been caught off guard, and his wand was still lying neatly in its case on his desk.  
He felt what seemed like a freefall, then the rhythmic cadence of a sprint, and then what he could only describe as nothingness. Not even the sensation of apparating was anything like what he now felt.  
Someone would notice that he was missing. That much he was certain. They would send a rescue team after him, and everything would return to normal once again.  
But until then, Filius Flitwick could do nothing but wait and hope his captors were a little compassionate. 


	6. Alarms and Excursions

Seras hated the Slytherins. They were arrogant, snobbish and annoying, and, from what she overheard of their conversations, many of them seemed to have a drastically over-romanticised view of vampires. Thankfully she didn't have to talk to them much. Just follow them around for their classes and sleep in their dungeon.  
That was the other thing she was hating right now- having to be up in the day. Sunlight didn't make her melt as the students liked to believe, but it was too hot on her skin, too bright on her eyes, and she felt a violent physical repulsion from it. But she had to do something with her time, and the teaching staff had been quite adamant that they didn't want a vampire stalking the corridors at night. Alucard had simply ignored these rules, but Seras, lacking the ability to teleport, walk through walls or do any of the other handy things her master could, was pretty much stuck with Snape's plan for her.  
Thankfully, another gruelling day of lessons was over and she was now sitting, eyes closed, in the comforting shadow of a pillar in one of the lesser courtyards. Her eyes might have been shut, but she could hear the muted conversations of the students as they edged cautiously past her. One small child, somewhere off to her left, was daring another to go and touch her. She made a vow with herself to scare the little brat to death if he dared try such a thing. Less than a week of Slytherin and sunlight had cleaned the fluffy edges off her personality, leaving only the angry, resentful bit in the middle.  
Suddenly she felt something. It was like someone had just shattered a block of ice over her head. She jerked wildly and sat bolt upright, her eyes wide open. Someone screamed, but she ignored them. She knew what this was. She had felt it before; back in the police morgue when Anderson had placed his seals on the wall. Someone had just unleashed a vast quantity of holy magic inside the castle.  
They were attacking!  
She stood upright and turned round, gun flipping out, and set off down the corridor at a dead run. Her intuition, untrained though it was, was giving her a direction. Up, left...  
She was moving very fast. The kind of sprint that most humans can only maintain for a few seconds. She however, didn't breathe, didn't respire. No painful build-up of lactic acid in her wire-taut muscles. Students screamed and jumped out the way as she shot down corridors, up staircases, past statues and armour, through at least two ghosts, and finally onto a narrow landing, with only one doorway at the end.  
She managed to skid to a halt before she crashed into Alucard, who was standing in the doorway with an amused grin on his face.  
"You're far too late, Police Girl. He was too fast even for me. I should really teach you some faster ways of travelling than your legs."  
Seras said nothing as she holstered her gun. "Who was it?" She asked, stepping forwards.  
Alucard held up a sheet of paper, the sight of which caused Seras almost to jump back. She knew that paper very well.  
"Anderson..." she muttered.  
"Yes, the Judas Priest was here alright...And he kidnapped your colleague, Snivellus." He said over her shoulder. She spun to see Snape, breathless, at the top of the stairs.  
"Flitwick?" Asked Snape, collapsing against the wall. "Why...on earth...would anyone want that....bumbling old fool..."  
"I have no idea, Snivellus. Isn't knowing things what you wizards are supposed to be good at?"  
"Quiet vampire, unless you've got something useful to say."  
More staff had arrived by now, and some students were at the bottom of the stairs by the sound of things.  
"Well Snivellus, I'll leave you with this merry throng to deal with. Meanwhile, I have a paper-trail to follow..."  
And with that, the elder vampire stepped back into a convenient shadow, leaving Seras alone with a large group of very confused wizards and witches, all of whom looked intent on upgrading the group status from 'confusion' to 'panic' and from there to something like 'riot'.  
How the hell was she going to get down the stairs past that lot?  
  
They first realised that the three students had gone off at dinner.  
"Typical!" raged Snape, walking backwards and forwards in front of Dumbledore, "It would have to be them! Always running off on their own, like they're some sort of heroes...it's that Potter boy, Albus, you know it is..."  
"Oh do be quiet Severus." Said Dumbledore calmly. "I know you have a grudge against the lad, and I suppose with good reason, but that's still no excuse..."  
"He's run off with two other students into the night, Albus! It's dangerous out there, whatever kidnapped Flitwick could still be about, not to mention everything that's normally out there..."  
"Please be calm, Severus!" The old mans eyebrows shot up, but his face remained almost jovial. "Take a seat. Now, you say that the elder vampire, this 'Alucard', has run off?"  
"Yes, Albus." Said Severus, collapsing into an armchair. "He said something about a 'paper trail'. Given the sheets of paper strewn across Filius's office, I can only presume that meant he was following the kidnapper..."  
"Trying to follow, Snivellus"  
Severus jerked and turned his head. Alucard was standing nonchalantly in the sealed doorway to Dumbledore's office, his hat-brim shadowing his goggled eyes.  
"You mean you lost him, you incompetent undead..."  
"There wasn't a trail to follow, you oaf! When someone teleports from place to place they tend not to leave a scent or footprints. I did attempt to follow the distasteful stink of the magic, but the trail had been deliberately masked."  
Snape gave a snort, as if to suggest that there was no point in having a vampire if he wasn't some use. "Well, I've got something you should be able to follow, vampire."  
Alucard raised one eyebrow sardonically.  
"Oh really?" he said.  
"Three students have gone off on their own into the countryside."  
Alucard suddenly laughed. "And you want me to rescue them? ME!?" He slapped his thigh. "That's a fine joke Snivellus, I really mean it..."  
"Alucard, I order you..."  
"Pah!" The No life King turned, "There are people out there who would slaughter everyone in this castle without batting an eyelid, and you worry about three pathetic little students? Anyone who would run off on their own at a time like this deserves whatever they get."  
"Alucard, I invoke..."  
"Send Seras!" Said Alucard, waving a hand as if to brush him off. "Her nose is keen enough, and it does her good to hunt occasionally."  
"I want these students back in one piece, Alucard..."  
"Oh, you'll have no worries from the moralising little police girl. However, if the Catholics have got to them, well, you can start getting ready the envelopes to post them back to their parents."  
And with that the elder vampire swept out of the room in a twist of coat and shadow, leaving behind him an enraged Snape and a slightly smirking Dumbledore.  
  
This had been a bad idea. They were lost now, in some shallow valley in the mountains from which not even Hogwarts lights could be seen.  
"This was one of your stupidest ideas, Hermione." Said Ron. "And you're supposed to be the sensible one."  
"I thought..." protested Hermione, "Look, how was I to know I'd got the place wrong, eh?"  
"Do you even know what unplottable means Hermione?"  
"Well yes, but I thought I'd got it down..."  
"Well obviously you hadn't! If you were right, this would be the down, and it bloody well isn't!"  
"Quiet!" Said Harry, turning round with a finger to his lips, "I think I hear something..."  
They stopped talking and listened. There was something. A rustling in the bushes, and then, oddly a faint moan.  
Harry squinted, he could see something coming through...  
"What on earth..." he said, trailing off as it came into a shaft of moonlight.  
It had clearly once been human, or at least it want ed to give that appearance. Its flesh was pallid, and tight to the bones. Its face was a skull mask, with eyes lost deep in shadow. It moved at a shambling pace, but with great deliberation. It looked up, and seemed to see them as if for the first time. It snarled and gave a sort of hiss, thin, caking lips pulling back to reveal serrated fangs.  
"I think we should get out of here, guys..." Said Hermione quietly.  
"Too bloody right!" Said Ron, panic beginning to creep into his voice. He turned around, and suddenly gave a cry. "We're surrounded!"  
It was true. The lumbering shadow of a young woman had moved from the trees behind them, shadowed pits somehow glinting with hunger as the fanged jaw hung slack. Others, people seemingly of all ages, could now be seen, moving slowly through the trees surrounding the path, heading towards them.  
"Oh dear..." murmured Hermione, readying her wand, "I think they might be after us, whatever they are...I don't remember them from any defence against the dark arts lessons...."  
"What are you going to do to them, Hermione?" said Ron, almost squeaking, "I know what they are, their bloody flesh-eating zombies, that's what they are, and I don't think Patronus works on flesh-eating zombies..."  
The first one was close now, and backing away would just have brought them closer to the other ones.  
  
"Someone think of something!" Said Harry, desperately, "Quickly!"  
The first thing snarled, and seamed ready to leap. Suddenly there was a whistling noise and the middle of its chest disappeared. The head and arms flew off into a gorse bush whilst the legs spasmed and collapsed to the floor. Half a second later a sound like a tank gun going off echoed down the valley. The creatures stopped as one and turned.  
There was another shot. The children threw themselves to the ground as an explosion tore through the creatures in the trees to their right, liquid flame exploding around bodies and tree trunks with a flash of heat.  
"What's happening!?" Squealed Hermione.  
They tried to get up as they saw another creature, obviously recovered from the shock of the attack, move towards them, mouth opening. Suddenly they heard the sound of running feet in the distance, and a voice cried 'Stay away from them!'. As the children tried to work out if this instruction was aimed at the creature or themselves four bullets struck the slavering monster in the head, reducing its skull to pulp. It fell forward, coming apart as it did, dust blossoming up.  
The children turned and saw a familiar figure in blood red robes. It was the vampire, Seras. Across her back was strapped a backpack and the most enormous gun any of them had ever seen, a good six feet in length. This had probably been what had created the explosion and torn that creature in two.  
As she neared them another of the creatures sprung from the bushes. They watched, both amazed and horrified as she smashed her left hand into its stomach, causing it to bend over with a horrible snapping noise, then rammed the butt of the pistol in her right hand into its face, tearing the head from its shoulders and sending it flying into the trees. She tossed the body away, and in the darkness, they could see the most horrifying grin on her face. Suddenly, she shook her head slightly, and the grin disappeared, replaced with something more like disgust. She looked up.  
"Run! Back along the path!"  
As they stood she raised the gun and seemed to fire at them. They all winced as bullets whistled around them. Groans and impact noises from behind them indicated what she was really aiming for. They scurried past her, turning after a bit to watch.  
Seras had let her beast out to play, this night. Her pistol discarded she grinned like a demon as she tore the oncoming creatures to shreds with her bare hands, clawed fingers tearing through flesh like wet tissue paper, punches and elbow slams pulverising meat and bone. After about forty seconds, it was over, and Seras stood there, in the middle of the death, lit by the dying flames of the fires that still burned amid the wet bracken, shaking slightly. Then, she slowly reached down to pick up her pistol and tucked it into her belt inside the robes. She turned, and they could see the dark blood splattered on her face and hands, and across her robes. She saw them looking at her, and her eyes suddenly became downcast with shame.  
She walked towards them, eyes on her feet, only looking up as she passed them. Her red eyes were shockingly bright this dark night.  
"Come on then, we're heading back to the castle."  
Then her eyes went down again, and she kept on walking. The children could do nothing except follow her, trying to keep up with her horribly regular strides. 


	7. Judas

It had been another long, tedious night spent watching over the aurors sent to replace Alucard and Seras, and Sir Integral Hellsing was absolutely thrilled that nothing had gone awry in all of England's human population that required the assistance of her Organization. The idiots would have been too amazed by the technology used by their enemies that they would have allowed themselves to be shot, or worse, bitten.  
Thankfully, another day approached, and with the rising of the sun it was time to complete the final rounds before retiring to her personal quarters. Besides the aurors questioning everyone from the cleaning staff to the troops about their jobs and lives, nothing was out of the ordinary.  
She was almost ready to leave her post for another day when her eyes fell upon a cream colored envelope, addressed to "Sir Integral Hellsing, Hellsing Manor, London".  
It did not even take her a moment to realize such a letter had to be from the wizards, and quickly she tore it open, hoping not to find terrible news about her vampires inside.  
Icy eyes scanned the letter, growing wide as she continued farther down the page.  
"Ghouls? Iscariot would never employ such creatures. . . . ."  
  
"I swear that the children were attacked by ghouls!" Seras dug her fingers in to the arms of the chair, tearing grooves in the wood as her anger rose. "I do know what a ghoul is, even if you don't!"  
"Listen, vampire," Severus Snape leaned down to glare in to her eyes, a snarl plastered across his lips. "If the creatures you described are really 'ghouls', as you call them, not zombies like both Professor Pembroke and I agree, how did they get here?"  
Elliana Pembroke leaned against the far desk in Snape's dark office, arms folded across her chest, surveying the two other occupants. Once again the vampire stated she just didn't know how the creatures even came into existence, let alone how they came so close to harming Hogwarts students, and once again the professor asked how the ghouls came to be.  
"Severus," She smiled, brown hair pushed from her face with a hand as she stepped toward Seras, "she's just a young vampire so she's most likely ignorant of most intricacies of her kind. Besides, she's terrified of you."  
"As she should be." He growled, eyes darting to his colleague before focusing on Seras once again.  
"Miss Victoria, how are ghouls created?"  
Silence gripped the office, both witch and wizard staring down at the vampire, arms folded across their chests.  
They knew more about ghouls than their feigned ignorance had led her to believe, which could only mean they already knew the answer to their question- they just wanted her to condemn herself and her master.  
"Ghouls are creatures created when a vampire feeds on one that has lost his or her virginity."  
Severus smirked. The interrogation could proceed. "So tell me Seras, are there any more of your kind around Hogwarts? In all of England?"  
"Well, my master-"  
"Are there any others besides your master nearby?"  
"N-no. . ."  
With a rustle of black fabric, porcelain hands were tossed toward the ceiling as a wand found the way to its summoner's grasp, pointing directly between Seras's eyes after the grand flourish had ended. "Your master, that damned Alucard, is to blame for this! The headmaster heard him make threats directed toward the students last night! So unless you'd like me to turn your demonic heart to pure silver, I would suggest you come with us to the dungeons."  
"But Master would never-"  
"You heard the Commander of your Master." Another wand was now pointed at her, and Seras could do nothing but follow orders. She had no idea if the wizards could actually turn her heart to pure silver thus killing her, but she really did not want to tempt fate this night.  
Together, the three headed toward the dungeons, wands directed at the young vampire.  
  
"Are you feeling any better Filius?" Yumiko Takagi smiled as she placed a cup of tea on the nightstand next to the bed where the professor lay. "You fainted when my colleague brought you here."  
Filius Flitwick, despite his small stature, lay sprawled across most of the single bed as he peeked through partially closed eyes at the nun seated nearby. Such strange dress these muggles wore.  
"Does your head hurt?"  
Shifting his weight, Filius now lay flat on his back, staring at the whitewashed ceiling. "A little, yes. And if I may ask, where am I?"  
Dipping a cloth in to a basin of cool water before wringing most of the moisture from the fabric, she leaned over the professor, placing the now cool cloth on his forehead. "You are in a sanctuary for those who are lost." Stepping away, she smiled yet again, adjusting her glasses. "Please try to rest. Father Anderson will soon be in to check on your progress."  
Remaining just outside the door, Father Anderson listened to the conversation between Yumiko and the wizard. The small man did seem to fit the description the book had given him- he was polite, kind, and in no way terrified of what Yumiko could do to him now that he had been stripped of his wand and removed from the magical lands of which he was so accustomed.  
But then again, hardly a soul alive would expect Sister Takagi to be anything but kind.  
A smile crept upon his lips as the conversation continued. The wizard was now asking how he had been found by a muggle when he could only last remember sitting in his office checking student records.  
It was now time to make his presence known.  
"Good Mornin', Mr. Flitwick."  
  
Sister Takagi smiled as she stood from her vigil, placing the cloth back in the basin of cool water, then stepping toward the door to leave Father Anderson alone with the wizard, but a large hand upon her shoulder stopped the nun before she could proceed from the room.  
"So how are ye doin', Professor?"  
Turning the chair around in order to lean his arms upon the back, Anderson seated himself near the bed, looking down upon the man who did not even appear that he would come past the Father's knees.  
"I'm a little tired, thank you. I'm also a bit hungry."  
Standing near the doorway, Yumiko fidgeted with the rosary attached to her belt, fingers feeling the beads as prayers raced through her mind. She was afraid of what Father Anderson could do, nearly as much as she was afraid of Yumie's wrath. "He just woke up, Father."  
"I understand that, Yumiko. Please go t' the kitchen and prepare something for our friend, would ye?" Leaning forward in the seat, smiling sincerely as he removed his glasses, Alexander Anderson removed the wand he confiscated the previous night from his prisoner, showing it to the man, holding it in reverence. "I was just wonderin' if the Professor would like t' teach me a few things about magic- teach all of us, actually."  
"But you don't have the aura of a mage. . . ."  
Anderson's features hardened, his jovial and caring personality destroyed in an instant, revealing the predator within. "Aye, I don't have the aura of one of YOUR mages, but I DO possess the spiritual magic given t' me through the kindness and grace of the Lord, my God. You will teach me t' strengthen my magic, and you will introduce my associates to the way of the Paladin, do you understand, Professor Flitwick?"  
The small man squeaked in fear, bringing his legs to his chest in a pitiful defense, wide eyes staring up at the man leaning over the bed. "Don't use the wand! Please! I'll do anything you want!"  
The feral grin widened. Iscariot would become unstoppable in just a few days time.  
  
"Hallo? Father Maxwell, this is Sister Wolfe. I haf some information you might want to hear."  
Enrico Maxwell stopped in the street as he listened to the voice coming from his mobile phone. The people of Rome would barely notice a clergy member standing near a café having a conversation, so he was quite safe to continue.  
"Yes, Sister. Have you finished the assignment?"  
"Nein. Ve haf not succeeded yet, but I haf been studying the target more than Father Anderson or Yumiko. Ghouls attacked some students yesterday. One of Hellsing's vampires saved them."  
The silver haired man pursed his lips, eyes rolling upward as he contemplated the situation.  
"How far are you from completion of the mission?"  
"Ve are not done, and ve are novhere near completed. I am afraid that ve haf been fooled by whoever gives you this assignment. Ve don't need it." He could hear her breathe; she was obviously trying to find the correct English words for her thoughts. "The ghouls vere not right. If ve vere dealing with strictly magical creatures, ve would haf had zombies, but these were ghouls, I am certain. Can you haf one of the other investigation Sections see vhy?"  
"Sister, it is not your duty to question your orders, but to follow the will of God. God has shown me a vision of a modern Holy Crusade against these abominations, and it is through the hand of Iscariot that His Will be done! Do you understand Wolfe?"  
Heinkel sighed over the connection, her voice dropping when she spoke again. "God forgive us." 


	8. Entrapment

Nymphadora Tonks had been in Hogsmeade the day of the massacre, therefore the Ministry of Magic had declared her unfit to serve in the investigation of the incident. She would be too emotionally attached for justice to be served to whoever had done such a deed. It had been hell to watch the three creatures destroy the city without any resistance; but worse was watching the blond woman, Heinkel, question the one witch before killing her.

Had that monster Heinkel not stopped to question the witch, Tonks would have been just as clueless as her peers as to what group was responsible for the massacre. The cross around the woman's neck and her insistence of "which God" the witch believed in led her to one obvious conclusion; these were agents of the Catholic or Anglican church sent to destroy the wizarding population.

She remembered learning about witch hunts in History of Magic classes from her time at Hogwarts; it was just hard to believe that the religious of the modern era would actually conduct witch hunts. It was hard to believe there were people worse than the Dark Lord, who could probably walk naked through Diagon Alley without being caught since he was not a concern anymore. But that fateful day in August made her believe that such people existed.

Her superiors at the Ministry had told her not to think about the accident and go on holiday for a few months, and that they would pay her expenses. What they didn't expect was for her trip to the French Riviera to turn in to a trip to Rome. She wanted answers, and obviously, the Ministry would see her if she remained in London.

The Vatican city-state was in itself not difficult to navigate. Her problem was that she didn't know who to speak with about the incident. After a week loitering near tourist attractions, changing her face each day as to not attract attention by any clergy that might notice her snooping, she was ready to return to France and have a peaceful remainder of her holiday. It seemed as if no one in the Vatican knew that the wizarding world existed.

That was until the previous day. She had found a café on the border with Rome and settled in for an espresso and biscuit when she overheard a long-haired priest asking about a modern Holy Crusade. Of course, there could be a million different meanings behind the priest's words, but there would be no harm in following him to find out exactly what he meant.

If it was what she believed, she could kill the man for orchestrating the massacre of so many innocent witches and wizards. Aurors knew the unforgivable curses, and the Ministry would most likely overlook the murder of someone worse than Lord Voldemort, if the long haired priest was somehow involved in the massacre.

Of course, she did not want to allow herself to feel pleasure in killing the man or torturing him like a Death Eater would. No, she wouldn't actually kill him herself, but she would alert the Ministry of her findings. They would send the proper people to deal with him.

So she followed him for a day, gleaning more and more substantial evidence that the man named Maxwell knew something about Hogsmeade. Unfortunately, nothing could prove his involvement; it just proved that he knew more of the magical world than his colleagues.

Only one step remained. She would have to question Maxwell personally.

Tonks had conjured herself a nun's habit and changed her face once again, to look more homely with sad brown eyes and dark hair pulled in to a severe bun at the nape of her neck. It was not her favorite disguise, but it was appropriate in the muggle world.

Closing her eyes as she stood outside of the priest's office, she cleared her mind of all doubt. This would be like any other day as an auror. He was bound to leave his office for lunch, and she would just happen to bump in to him.

oooooooo

Seras was bored, to say the least. Professors Snape and Pembroke had locked her in her dungeon room, and neither had thought to bring her blood packets. She had been imprisoned for at least a week.

She had tried to call to her master, but he only told her to use her powers and escape if that was what she wished. Seras countered that she did not want to be hunted by the wizards; she did not know if they could actually turn her heart to pure silver, and she did not want to find out.

Alucard only scoffed at her pitiful existence, but informed her he had more important business than breaking down a door. She would be on her own if she wanted to escape her captors.

Therefore, Seras waited in the dungeon cell without human contact. Even the Slytherins stopped coming by to gawk and giggle at her.

"Take all the points from Gryffindor that you want!" Hermione snapped at someone, most likely Snape, as she stomped toward the cell while Seras had been contemplating her escape. "She saved us from those Zombies and doesn't deserve this sort of treatment!"

Standing from her coffin, Seras walked to the door, looking through the peephole to confirm who was coming toward her. Hermione Granger was holding a blood packet in her left hand and her wand in her right. With a quick '_alohamora!'_ the lock fell to the ground, allowing Hermione to open the cell door.

"You shouldn't get in trouble for me." Seras smiled sheepishly at the teenager, stepping in to the candle-lit hallway. "I just don't want to cause any problems, so I was staying where the professors put me."

"We have the situation under control, Miss Granger." Professor Pembroke hissed, her wand pointed at Seras instead of the student. "Alucard has been ordered to stop the threat, and Professor Snape feels that one vampire is enough to accomplish the task." The wand moved to Hermione. "I suggest you return to your house; you ARE a prefect, after all."

"Fine," Hermione raised her wand, and Seras cringed at the thought of a mage-fight. She didn't know what one really looked like, but she had read books as a young girl that described such things…. But the wand was pointed at Seras' coffin. "but Seras is coming with me."

"Miss Granger!" Professor Pembroke snapped, shooting a stream of bright red light from her wand that singed Hermione's hair, but Hermione's concentration and grip on the floating coffin did not waver. "You will be expelled for this!"

Hermione snorted, following the coffin. "Oh, I haven't heard THAT before. Seras, grab your weapons and come with me."

The young witch was determined, Seras had to give her that much credit. Quickly, she scooped up the Harkonnen and its case which had been kept just outside her cell door, and walked behind Hermione up the stairs.

The two remained silent as they continued up the flights of stairs and past the portrait of the Fat Lady to the Gryffindor common room, where it seemed all of the students in the house were sitting, obviously waiting for Hermione to return.

Harry and Ron both hurried to her, offering hugs as she entered the room.

"I can't believe it worked." Ron chuckled, obviously relieved that Hermione had returned unharmed. "Snape must be furious."

Hermione shrugged, offering the blood packet to Seras. As the vampire drank, a group of Gryffindors gathered around, more interested in Seras than Hermione's story. "Professor Snape gave me the blood packet and watched me walk by twice without saying a word; Professor Pembroke had a fit when I demanded Seras come live in Gryffindor tower because of the incident."

"Did something more happen?" Seras questioned, still sucking the blood through the makeshift straw. "I know that Professor Flitwick was captured and there were ghouls in the area, but that is hardly cause for heightened security. I'm sure my master is just having fun as he searches for Father Anderson; he likes to do that."

Harry looked to Hermione, then to Ron, and back to Seras. "You mean you don't know?"

"Obviously." The word was flat as she crushed the empty blood packet in her fist. "I wouldn't ask if I knew."

"Well," Harry sighed, "it's a long story…"

"Let me tell it, I was there." Ron whispered, visibly distraught at whatever occurred inside the castle. His face was pale; his hands shaking. "Professor McGonagall called the male prefects and head boy to her office to talk about the duels happening between some of the sixth and seventh years. Right in the middle of the meeting, some funny looking woman came right in to the office, muttered some spell, and just cut McGonagall's head clean from her shoulders. The woman just smiled and then disappeared. You're not supposed to be able to apparate in or out of Hogwarts, and she did."

Seras was speechless.

"Thing is," Ron added, "Sprout and Snape were holding meetings at the same time about the same thing. Some blond man came in and shot Sprout between the eyes; but the man that came after Snape used a lot of that paper they found at Hogsmeade so Snape couldn't use magic, but he didn't kill him. Malfoy says that he didn't even try, but I don't believe anything that git says."

Anderson hadn't killed? Not only was she speechless, Seras was confused.

Harry was quiet, placing his hand upon Ron's shoulder. "We all think Snape is in league with this Iscariot group of yours."

"I don't." Hermione added. "Snape doesn't like Harry, but he wouldn't have other professors killed. I could believe Pembroke was involved, but I just can't see anyone that Dumbledore trusts being THIS terrible."

"Anyway, the entire house voted that you could protect the school better if you were here than locked in the Slytherins' dungeon. If you stay here, we'll make sure you get anything you need, even if it is a live victim."

"No, I don't want that…"Seras raised her hands as she spoke, looking between all the students gathered around her. They were looking for a guardian, and she had been their choice. Would the situation not be so dire, she would have been touched.

If the situation was not dire, she would still be in the basement of the Hellsing Manor.

"I'll do my best."

oooooooooo

Alucard smiled as he sat on the bench in the schoolyard just outside the small parish. He could see Anderson inside, along with the two nuns that he had yet to battle.

The Police Girl could deal with those two; he wanted Anderson.

Pulling a mobile from his coat pocket, Alucard dialed the only phone number he needed to know.

He heard a click from the other end of the line, and a muffled sound of amazement in the background.

"My true Master, I have found our Judas. I only await your orders."


End file.
